The Meaning of Life

I wonder, as I sit in my spot
if there is more to life than
slowly advancing from the
green innocence of youth
to the dark tones of maturity?

As I contemplate my flesh
once firm to the touch
but now seeming to break
at the slightest pressure
I wonder, is there more to life than this?

And as I sit here in my spot
I have to wonder if I even have the right
to contemplate the mysteries of life,
for I am merely an over-ripe banana
the breeding ground for fruit flies.


“Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana”
-Groucho Marx


Victoria has given us another wonderful prompt at dVerse: to write poems in the first person…but an apparent first person – in other words, first person from someone else’s point of view.  I chose to embody an overly philosophical banana that is brown, mushy, and worried that he had wasted his youth.


20 thoughts on “The Meaning of Life

  1. I would never have suspected a “philosophical banana” as the voice to this contemplative piece. Then I reread it for a different effect. So cool.

    I suppose bananas have feelings too. 🙂

  2. Ah, I would say this is a very wise banana to be contemplating such heavy issues. Smiles. I think that as one ages, even as a banana, one has earned the right to contemplate what it is all about…..

  3. yeeeeow! Those last lines are killers. Gross — over ripe bananas and the fruit flies. Whew! This one got a visceral reaction from me….and that, for sure, is the sign of writing that reaches someone!

  4. Comparing ageing with becoming an over-ripe banana is just hilarious!
    More seriously, I like the questions that posed within the poem. Is it even worth contemplating those mysteries when time has marked our skin? I think it is. It always is.

  5. Saddest art of culture..
    a society that inputs data
    more than outputting emoTions..
    PoeTry of human moves.. connects
    and creates.. dances life alive.. never
    HeArt a path
    deTour True..:)

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